Charles Deserves Respect, Not Sodium

Charles Deserves Respect, Not Sodium

There's a yearly East Campus tradition, dating back about as far as many
people on campus can remember, called the Sodium Drop which involves
lobbing a significant mass of sodium metal, perhaps a pound or so, into the
Charles River. The sodium reacts explosively with the water, to the glee of
hundreds of onlookers that traditionally flock to the railing of the
Longfellow Bridge to view the event.

I went to watch the Sodium Drop when I was a freshman; it was part of my
Residence and Orientation Week experience. That was in 1984. I'd heard the
Charles was polluted, that you'd need a tetanus shot if you fell in. At
that time I also had no sense of my surrounding community or the issues
that it faced. The Sodium Drop seemed like no cost fun.

Now I know that the perception that I had, one shared by many to this
day, isn't valid. The Charles River is not a sterile sewer. Years of work
by government agencies, volunteers, and researchers (many from MIT) has
begun to restore the Charles to a living, vibrant ecosystem. Birds and
turtles now call the river home. Fish jump along next to sailboats and
sculls as they pass through the water. Porpoises have returned to the
Charles River dam. While much work remains to be done, there's even hope
that parts of the Charles will be swimmable within the next decade. The
tradition of the Sodium Drop runs counter to the goal of a healthy
river.

There's no denying the human fascination with things that burn or blow
up: it seems to come from somewhere deep inside the soul. But when the
pursuit of that fascination results in the pollution of the environment, or
the death of aquatic life due to the percussive force of underwater
explosions, the cost of fun becomes too high.

Today, society increasingly stereotypes scientists as people who act
without regard to consequence. Behind every toxic waste dump is someone who
thought it wouldn't matter, or did what had always been done before. The
Sodium Drop exactly fits the stereotype, albeit on a smaller scale. At MIT,
we're supposed to be different. We're supposed to be the ones who can think
for ourselves, who relish breaking the status quo when it becomes outmoded.
The tradition of the Sodium Drop has become just that: outmoded. I ask that
those who organize it find an alternative and equally alluring tradition
that doesn't sacrifice the quality of the fragile river environment that is
MIT's backyard.